National and World Editor
I hate Sophomore Strip. My first traumatic experience included not one, but two cars. My sister told me to get to the street early, say around seven, so I got there at six fifty. What did I encounter? NO PULL-IN PARKING SPOTS. On Sophomore Strip during the second week of school, there was only a singular parallel parking spot that my sister had to park in for me. The absolute biggest embarrassment I felt was when I had to throw myself over to the passenger side as my sister waltzed over in her checkered pajamas to maneuver my car for me.
Just as I thought, it could not get worse. I escaped the treacherous Sophomore Strip and went to after-school practice. Yet the memory still haunts me, as one teammate proudly informed me that I had become tutorial’s hottest gossip, thanks to my legendary inability to park. I have no clue how I passed my driver’s test; it could be the fact that my driving instructor only took me around Hollister for five minutes with no reverse driving. A fourth of the test was my waiting for an elderly man to stroll through the crosswalk, as I diligently watched while he placed not one but two feet on the sidewalk.
Now, the car I drive is not small; it has these wheels that are twice as wide as the base of the vehicle, making my parking jobs all that much worse. Everyone who has seen me in the Whole Foods and Starbucks parking lots can attest to how my frustration gets the better of me as I try to maneuver my car and end up taking up two spots out of anger. In my defense, my car does not beep like other cars do when objects are close or I am near a collision. Therefore, I tend to leave WAY too much room between the car in front of me and my vehicle while parking on the strip. In other words, if I moved up, maybe one or two smaller cars could fit. But no, I choose to leave fifteen feet in front of me because I’m physically unable to see over the front of my car, no matter how hard I try.
The people who decided my school schedule must have had a vision that they wanted me to suffer my junior year because both my fifth and sixth periods are on the opposite sides of campus. Therefore, I either walk normally to my car and get stuck in twenty minutes of traffic or run to escape the parade of vehicles.
Sophomore Strip, why is it even called that? The majority of sophomores cannot even drive yet, let alone parallel park better than yours truly. The more official name and legal name for Sophomore Strip is Pleasant Street, but lord knows there is absolutely nothing pleasant about it. Only a haven for frustration in addition to people coming up to my window knocking on it asking if I could move up.
Just know, you will never see me parallel park, but in senior year, you will see my last name that no one can pronounce over the front title of the Senior Superlative, labeled “Worst Parker.”
Categories: Humor